"Who was it this time, Frank?" A soft voice asked.
Brown eyes stared up at the smaller woman straddling his waist. Her delicate hands were pressed onto the deep cut on the lower left side of his stomach, a bright white glow coming from her palm completely contrasting her caramel skin. She looked like an angel sitting above him with her long dark red curls fanning and framing her face, hazel eyes watching the man beneath her.
"You dyed your hair," he stated, giving no indication to whoever made these wounds.
Her gentle laugh danced in his ears as she moved her hands along the cut. "I did. Felt like changing things up."
His hands rubbed along her bare calves and thighs as he watched her, skimming along her loose t-shirt. "I like it."
"Thank you," she smiled, lifting her hands to check if the wound was closed. It was. She trailed her fingers upwards and to his right to a long nick that wrapped around to his side. It didn't look deep but she still got to work healing it. Her eyes met his again in the silence, "you didn't answer me."
He held eye contact with her, settling his hands just under her shirt, content with just feeling her skin on his. "You don't need to get involved."
She rolled her eyes, dragging soft hands along the shape of his torso to deal with all the bruises littering his skin. They didn't take as much time as his cuts and usually only required a couple of seconds to fix.
When she was sure she got them all, she allowed her eyes to become white as she x-rayed his body to make sure there were no internal injuries she was missing.
He watched her patiently, completely used to how thorough she could be. And he was appreciative because she kept him out of death's hands often.
Her eyes slowly shifted back to the hazel color he adored, though they carried more of a gold tint now, making her look even more ethereal. "You involved me when you came through my window, Frank," she reasoned, setting her sights on the bullet wound on his left shoulder that she'd been avoiding.
Leaning her body forward a little, she got a better look. It was not a clean shot and the bullet was still lodged in his shoulder.
Frank enjoyed the warmth and peace she radiated and would not verbally express how much he liked when she pressed herself against him. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her and sat up.
"Whoa," she whispered as he moved, steadying herself against him. She let out a shaky breath as his muscles flexed beneath her.
He needed more of her skin touching his, so he slowly pushed her shirt up, hands leaving goosebumps as they caressed her, the moment all-consuming for the two.
Her fingers were lightly scratching at his chest, trying to find purchase on him. He knew what he was doing even as his own mind clouded up.
"I need to," she breathed out, relishing in how much he knew her body and how to play it, "I need to finish."
He took a deep breath and let his arms trap her against him, savoring how easily she became flustered, never letting his eyes stray from her face, too enthralled to look elsewhere.
Her relief was visible as she redirected her attention to the relatively small hole. It would be the most difficult fix of the night. She sighed, bringing the white glow back to her right palm as she pressed it against the wound, eyes drifting back to the contours of Frank's face.
He barely flinched as his tissues started mending themselves and pushing the bullet out. But he rarely, if ever, expressed discomfort with the process, always allowing her to do what needed to be done.
There were small cuts along his cheek, a bruise or two under his eyes, his lip was busted, and a tiny gash on his temple. Not the worst state he's been in if she were honest. She was just thankful he kept coming back to her.
"You know things would be easier if I were with you when these things happened," she mused, meeting his stoic gaze.
"No," his tone left no room for argument.
She shook her head, amused by how much he wanted to protect her even though she was better suited for his fights as a mutant. It was sweet, albeit a little misguided, but she wouldn't complain.
When she felt the bullet pushing lightly against her palm, she tented her hand to give it space to move. She looked back at it in time to see the hole close, the bullet falling gently to the side with a soft thud against her sheets.
Frank tightened his hold, pulling her closer, impatience starting to slip through. She didn't mind because she could clearly see the damage on his face.
With soft glowing hands, she began at his temple, sealing the gash. Moving downward, she healed up the bruises and the cuts on his cheeks, giving him her complete attention. Stopping at his lips, she ran her thumbs along the bottom, not healing the tiny cut immediately.
His eyes drifted to her lips and she knew what he wanted. It's what he always wanted.
Dropping her hands to his neck, she closed the short distance to his mouth, pressing her lips to his. He eagerly returned the kiss, feeling the cut heal as her tongue ran along his bottom lip. But he didn't care about that. He needed to taste her, feel her.
She happily accepted his tongue in her mouth, perfectly willing to allow him to do what he wanted.
They moved in sync, her hands playing in his hair, his splaying against the small of her back, against the space he'd found his name. He broke away from her mouth to trail kisses and small bites along her neck, listening to her breathy moans and wispy utterances of his name.
He drowned himself in the sound before he needed to have her mouth on his again. This kiss was slower, needier. It conveyed just how much he was unwilling to lose her. He could be hurt as many times as was needed but he refused to lose another soulmate, refused to ever let her be in danger.
When they pulled away from each other, they were breathing heavily, trying to calm racing hearts down. He was watching her, hands interlocking over the spot where his name rested. Her eyes were closed as she locked her fingers behind his neck, heart working double time in her chest.
She wasn't surprised to see him staring at her when she opened her eyes. Frank spent a lot of time watching her. Not that it ever bothered her.
"Should I be worried that someone might try to get revenge?" She breathed out when things calmed down.
He leaned his forehead against hers. "Not if I have something to say about it, sweetheart."
She breathed deeply, appreciating how safe he always made her feel. "Promise?"
Frank pulled her closer, giving her another breath stealing kiss. "Promise."